


Mirrors

by gilraecinn



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-03-21 15:56:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3698210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gilraecinn/pseuds/gilraecinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He tried to stand up but felt himself weaker with every move. He went back to the lying position. What reason was left for him to keep going after all?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Battle Inside

“I want his voice! I need his voice!” lying on the couch in the lab they’re using for the most dangerous experiments, Mr. Oakenshield, or simply, Thorin, yelled to the trainee with eyes glued to the roof, empty and red from crying.

”Yes, sir” the younger man stepped as fast as he could out of the door. He turned the corner and disappeared leaving him alone again. He was used to be left alone but for the last two weeks it was different.

The dark haired man found the chance in the comfort of loneliness to let go his feelings by bursting into tears. He covered his face with both hands and let a cry escape his throat and quickly covered his mouth with a hand fearing that someone might hear him. His lungs were burning and his throat was aching. He tried to stand up but felt himself weaker with every move. He went back to the lying position. What reason was left for him to keep going after all?

He knew it was impossible to find a recorded file, a tape, anything that might be useful. He closed his eyes behind his palms but they were so dry that it felt like a thousand tiny needles were growing violently inside of them, scratching every surface. He opened them and breathed heavily. The air inside his lungs was getting heavier and even breathing was now unbearable.

Nights were sleepless and long, full of anger and pain. But nobody knew except himself. He needed an answer more than anything else but no one was there to give it. He reached for he cup on the coffee table and groaned unhappily when he realized that it was empty -probably for the last three or four days. He couldn’t recall the last day he made coffee or when was the last time he made something to eat. He smacked the cup on the table and the impact made a loud noise that felt like fire shot through his head. “Curse you” he breathed and tried to stand up for a hundredth time that day. It doesn’t matter how much he tried to gather up all of his strength to move his body, but his legs were heavier than they used to. He tried repeatedly but it made no difference. He gave up.

He could easily remember when was the last day he laughed. The date was written on the calendar hanged on the wall right next to him. It was the day before the incident that changed his life. That day he didn’t know what was coming, that day he was happy.

His mind was ready to betray him and go back to the thought of _him _but a knock at the door saved him from sinking again in despair and agony. “Sir?” a red head popped out behind the wooden white door. He wiped away the tears with his sleeve.__

 _ _”Did you find anything?” his voice was calm, he didn’t want to hear the answer. If it was negative he would lock himself in the lab for the rest of the week and wouldn’t talk to anyone. He could not stand the thought that there was nothing left from him. But if the answer was positive he wouldn’t be able to keep himself from listening to the recorded voice. And that was probably worse than completely forgetting it and never listening to it again. He could not stand it.__

 _ _

”Nothing, I’m afraid, sir” the young boy answered.

His face turned pale as a sheet of paper and his eyes had a blank look. He stepped back as if he wanted to hide. He slowly pressed his back against the cold wall. He felt his heart beating slower and his blood running cold in his veins. He could only hear the rushing sound of his blood pumping in his ears. That was the only noise he could hear and it was louder than the repeating _“sir?” _that was coming from the trainee.__

He lifted his head up as if he had just woken up from a nightmare that kept coming every night to haunt him. “Are you alright, sir?” asked the boy worried. He feared that this question was near. His heart wanted him to tell the truth _“No, I am not! I feel helpless, it feels like dying” _he said nothing.__

The boy lowered his head “Is there anything I can do, sir?”

”Nothing…” his voice was flat but he forced a smile. It was more like a mask than a smile.

”I am sorry, sir. I looked everywhere inside his office. There are a lot of tapes and audio files and videos but nothing is recorded by him” the boy paused. His boss’ eyes started to tear up. “With all respect, sir, but perhaps it would be better if you go and have a look for yourself” 

”No!” his voice echoed in the room and the boy took it as a warning that he had crossed the line.

Thorin took a deep breath “No” he said again softer this time. ”Don’t make me go in there” there seemed to be a weary tone in his voice. He wanted to avoid going back there. The smell of the books, the blue coat resting on the hanger he had helped him carry, a glass of water placed on the desk. Everything seemed untouched. No, he wasn’t going back. He wasn’t ready, not just yet.

An hour ago, he found himself driving back home. The music was playing but he couldn’t listen to it. A memory so vivid appeared like a vision in front of him. _It was a night like this and he was driving him home after a long day in the lab. They were studying all day, leaving a great pile of books and papers on the floor. Thorin was driving, the music was playing and the blond man was asleep next to him. He didn’t mind. He was trying to avoid the holes and drive slow to let him sleep until the end of the route. ___

A shiver ran up his spine as he remembered him. His face. His voice. So recently gone. He stepped of the car and locked the door behind him. He wasn’t thinking. His moves were a result of an unconscious mechanism that had grown up stronger to ensure his survival. He was thankful to it since he wasn’t able to think or act consciously.

With heavy steps, he climbed the stairs. The first thing he saw once he closed the door behind him was his own reflection in the mirror. His hair was only a few inches above his shoulders blades, quite messy, like the beard that was slowly growing on his face. He couldn’t recognize himself.

He had struggled many nights to convince himself that it was worthless feeling like that. He was gone, after all. It was _his _fault, not Thorin’s. _He _had left him without saying ‘goodbye’, without giving a clue of where he was going. In fact, Thorin didn’t know what had happened to his partner. He only wanted to believe that he left willingly because this was the only thought that was consoling him. Every other thought, different than this, causing him fear and was intolerable.____

He sat on his armchair and felt immediately cold. He shivered by the instant change of the temperature of his body. He closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. Every day that time, when he’s finally alone in his house he was forcing himself to relive the moments he’d shared with him. All the arguments, all the jokes and the laughter. He wanted to remember as much as he wanted to forget. He remembered how _he _used to worry about the little things when Thorin didn’t even care about them. They were always arguing about it and the quarrels were ending up into laughter and teasing.__

After many sleepless nights that were turning into days full of regret of the things he didn’t say or do and anger, he finally let himself sink into a sleep interrupted constantly by extremely vivid nightmares.

__


	2. Chapter 2

He locked the door and left the key fall on the floor. He had early that day in the lab. Whoever saw him knew that he hadn’t slept the last night or the night before. They couldn’t understand him. He could hear them whisper suspiciously whenever he was pretending that he was focused on his work sheets. But he was never really focused. They papers were blank. Or at least he couldn’t see what was written, if anything was written.

Rumors have started between the people who were working in the lab. He could fire them all if he wished but he cared little about them.

They were saying he’s gone mad. Thorin Oakenshield has gone mad. He caused Mr. Baggins to dig his own grave. He was the reason that he’s missing and god knows where he might be. Alive or dead. They couldn’t know. But he did, he knew better than everyone. He was there that night when everything went wrong, when in a blink of an eye his life fell apart. When he was watching him leaving he couldn’t imagine that it was going to be the last time.

Oh, he would have done so many things if he knew. Apart from begging him to stay, apart from begging for an explanation, for an answer. He would have told him things. So. Many. Things. Everything he wanted to tell him but he was too coward to even say a simple “Good morning” every time he was walking through the door and sitting on his usual spot in their common office.

Not a very spacious one, he could easily hear his voice complaining that there is no space in the room for both of them but he never thought of moving, not even once. He was putting on his big round glasses. They were too big for his small face. His curly hair was always covering the glass and he used to make that clumsy flinch of his head back to move the blond locks aside. The image of the younger man - so painfully vivid, Thorin only had to close his eyes and there he was. 

Thorin have always thought that it was quite charming. It was a thought that he kept for himself. He couldn’t imagine what would have happened if Mr. Baggins have seen his smile whenever he was pinching the bridge of his glasses to prevent them falling off his face. He was trying too hard to hide behind a pile of books or a glass of water.

They were hurting him, all these memories. He felt like drowning, a pain inside his chest that was growing bigger and bigger. He was so lost in memories and thoughts that he didn’t hear the door. After two minutes he turned his head slowly towards it. Somebody tried to open it but they soon realized that it was locked from the inside and they finally gave up trying.

Thorin felt relieved.

It was better for him to be alone. Whatever was happening he didn’t want to be involved into. He kept staring on the ceiling, lying on the couch, hands crossed on his chest. The rooftop above his head slowly turned into a screen, images were coming and fading again. A few minutes passed before he realizes that they were all creations of his own mind. His hair was loose, falling down, almost touching the floor. He was holding something.

Even the white walls around him had used to this picture. “Walls know more than we do” he used to say and Thorin never really understood the meaning behind this - even though it was quite obvious but he wanted to have a chance to ask him what he means, just a chance to hear his voice a bit longer than usual, to be the center of his interest only for a few moments, he didn’t ask much, he couldn’t ask more. He kept repeating it to himself every now and then, it became his favorite quote even if he thought it was quite stupid for a scientist as great as himself to believe that things as walls could possibly know anything.

Mirrors. There were two of them. He used to keep them hanged above his office. He never looked in them. Thorin never asked him why he has two little mirrors that he never uses. He assumed that they are somehow important so he just helped him placed them on the wall and never spoke of them again no matter how curious he was.

Thorin couldn’t stay in that room for much longer. The air was thick and his aroma was still invading his senses and it was impossible for him, the first days, to stand in the office for more than two seconds. His scent was hard for him to ignore the first time and, now, to forget.

Every morning, the blond man was walking in the room and the scent of him was traveling through the air, reminding Thorin of once forgotten memories of his childhood. Fruity and fresh, it was filling the gap between his childhood and the present.

But not anymore. Now it was nothing but a distant memory. He left the room and closed the door behind him making a loud noise. Heads turned to see him. Eyes were following his steps until he disappeared of their sight.

He stepped on the pavement. People were walking; others were even running, to catch a bus, to manage to be on time for an arranged meeting. He let his feet lead him against the crowd. He could kneel right there and feel them passing beside him or above his head like empty souls in one of his nightmares.

He stopped for cigars and he left the store without saying a single word. Goodmornings and other wishes was none of his concern right now. A simple yet kindfull smile would be not good use for him. He was craving that particular one; that smile he had missed more than everything. Even if it was nothing but a grin, it certainly was healing and had the miraculous capacity of soothing Thorin no matter how bad he was feeling.

He went back home to find a worried brother. Frerin was waiting behind the door, fists clenched that quickly relaxed when he finally saw his brother stepping inside the house.

”What are you doing here?” hissed Thorin, a not so kind greeting but Frerin was far too happy that he actually care to talk to him, even in a threating way.

”I was calling you, you wouldn’t answer to any of my calls.” His voice shook; he knew that this wasn’t going to end well. “Thirteen missed calls, Thorin, where on earth have you been?”

”At work.”

”You’ve left work early today, I called there even and they informed me.” Frerin, who was clearly the logic one, was fearing for his brother that he might go back to his old bad habits after Mr. Baggins’ disappearance and he was willing to stand there by his brother’s side, like a rock impossible to be moved by strong winds and storms.

”How did you get in, anyway?” Thorin asked quietly, feeling that his brother had no intention to pry and just wanted to do his best for him.

”You gave me the keys” he answered calmly and Thorin frowned. “We’ve talked about that” he added looking at his brother who was walking to the kitchen using as much effort as he would’ve used to walk dragging a pile of bricks behind his feet.

”I don’t remember such thing” a bewildered head popped out the kitchen’s door frame spelling every syllable slowly like he wanted to plant every single syllable inside his brother’s mind.

Frerin didn’t answer back. He was always like that, since they were still little. He used to say things and forget what he said the next moment. But Frerin knew – and still does, if you ask him – that his older brother was far too buried under his own thoughts and problems to even hear what he had to say.

Now one more problem had to come to bury him even deeper.

Bilbo Baggins was missing for five months now and the police had stopped the investigation around his case and so Thorin had decided – after Frerin’s demand which sounded more like a begging – to move on.

He had decided, yes, but he knew that such thing was in fact hardly possible. His mind wasn’t settled down or at least he was feeling like it. His brother had gone to the office himself to inform Thorin’s coworkers that he wouldn’t be around for a week or more. His help was indeed valuable but Thorin couldn’t yet see it.

The young man didn’t mind at all. He wanted to see his brother smile again and with that desire he arranged a meeting with old friends right the first night of Thorin’s freedom.

But Thorin had other plans for that week. He wanted to stay in, see no one, talk to no one if possible.

That night Frerin found him sitting on the floor, papers were lying around him. He was holding a piece of paper he soon realized it was a photograph. His teary eyes looked up to meet his brother’s bright blue ones. Their eyes had the exact same color, their mother’s color. But someone else was also having that color, or at least a darker shade of it. That someone was the blond man in the photograph Thorin was holding. Frerin looked closer and leaned to take the piece of paper from his brother’s hands.

”Thorin, you promised me, remember?”

Silence came as response and Frerin sighed deeply. He placed gently the photograph on the wooden surface of the round table gazing at it before he leaves it.

Thorin stood up and stumbled on his feet. He hold the arm of the chair behind him at the last minute and let himself sink in it. With eyes closed he covered his face with his sweaty palms and brushed it in such way that he it actually hurt him. He didn’t care though, not in the slightest.

The nightmares came back the moment he closed his eyes, him running through shadows, figures made of fire hunting him, blocking his way, he was falling and falling. He was desperately trying to wake up, he could hear himself shouting for help and there was a voice like an echo, a soothing and soft voice telling him that it is all just a dream. He was trying to follow that voice but it was gone before he’d managed to realize where it was coming from.

”Thorin? Thorin! Wake up!” it was his brother’s voice. He could feel his hand on his forehead.

”They’re after me!” Thorin had clearly no idea where he was. Trapped between reality and imagination he was seeking for a helpful hand. Frerin gave him his freely and tried to make him stand up.

”You are sick.”

”No, I am not” muttered Thorin.

”Yes, alright, whatever you say, now stand up” he demanded.

It was harder that he thought but he tried and succeeded to guide him in his bedroom safe.

Thorin was muttering incomprehensible words, he could feel the fever rising. His head was heavy and there was a sound of horns coming from every corner of the room creeping him out but there was nothing he could do about it.

”Close your eyes”

It was the last thing Thorin heard before passing out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was longer that I first thought.  
> Don't worry, we're getting there, slowly but surely.  
> I am just giving time to the characters to expose themselves :P


End file.
